Kells was staring at the ceiling. He said: “Now’s a good time to get out.”
Beery looked at Borg; Borg took a toothpick out of his vest pocket, stuck it in his mouth and went back to his solitaire.
“I didn’t mean that,” Beery said. “Only, what are we going to do?”
“Get out.” Kells’ eyes were fixed blankly on the ceiling. “I’ve been pretty lucky up to now. Partly because everybody that’s been against me has figured that the inside would get a big press spread if anything serious happened to me.”
He looked at Beery. “Through you — spread through you, I mean. That doesn’t make it very safe for you.”
Beery was looking at the floor.
“The luck’s beginning to run out,” Kells went on. “I dropped all the dough I’d made since I’ve been out here, on the island, because I was dumb enough to get heroic about that bitch Granquist — and she was Crotti’s plant all the time...”
Beery said: “You didn’t tell me about that.”
“I’m telling you now. She was sent out here by Crotti to look things over — start the organization ball rolling.”
“Well, well. Damned clever, these Swedes.” Beery sat down at the table.